


Paradise by the Dashboard Lights

by PrettyArbitrary



Category: A-Team (2010), A-Team - All Media Types
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-11
Updated: 2010-07-11
Packaged: 2017-10-21 05:57:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyArbitrary/pseuds/PrettyArbitrary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life comes in moments when you're on the run, and moments of peace are rare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paradise by the Dashboard Lights

**Author's Note:**

> The song, of course, is Meatloaf's "Paradise by the Dashboard Lights."

_I remember every little thing_   
_As if it happened only yesterday_   
_Parking by the lake_   
_And there was not another car in sight_   
_And I never had a girl_   
_Looking any better than you did_   
_And all the kids at school_   
_They were wishing they were me that night_   
_And now our bodies are oh so close and tight_   
_It never felt so good, it never felt so right_   
_And we're glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife_   
_Glowing like the metal on the edge of a knife_   
_C'mon! Hold on tight!_   
_C'mon! Hold on tight!_

 _Though it's cold and lonely in the deep dark night_   
_I can see paradise by the dashboard light_

* * *

On the run, Hannibal's world shrinks to three men and the confines of a stolen minivan.

They're somewhere in the heartland of America, at an hour fit for the dead. They haven't stopped moving since they cleared the containment perimeter three days ago. The tarry night of the Great Plains unrolls around them, the boundaries of their terminally reduced existence drawn by the dim orange glow of the console lights.

It's a brief pocket of safety. So long as it lasts, the darkness makes for the perfect sentry. You could see a light source coming for miles on these plains, but tonight nothing has disturbed the ocean of black beyond their headlights in hours. Not even the stars are out.

Hannibal thinks this may be the closest he'll know to peace for a very long time.

In a magnificent attempt to ignore reason, earlier he tried to doze for a little while, shunting the shotgun seat as far back as it would go so he could stretch his long legs. That went about as well as could be expected. He can't say he's disappointed; he hardly needs the nightmares. Instead, for lack of anything better to do, he's been lying here watching the night roll by past the glass, and watching Murdock drive.

It's the pilot's shift behind the wheel while Face and B.A. catch whatever rest they can in back. The dashboard lights cast that angular face into deep shadow, but every so often a glitter gives away that Murdock's watching the colonel right back, keeping him company on his aimless vigil. Hannibal contemplates, not for the first time, the interesting phenomenon of trusting his life and soul to a man who really is probably insane. It doesn't bother him; never has, not even on that first day when Murdock cast them into the sky with glorious abandon and broke B.A. in the process. Maybe the captain needs to be a little bit crazy to be who he is—a man born to be a combat pilot. Murdock could never belong anywhere else, no more than Hannibal could be anything but a Special Forces man. And Lord knows many have claimed that Hannibal was out of his godforsaken mind.

Many will claim that neither of them are those things anymore, which only goes to prove they don't understand.

The silence between them is good. Hannibal's shared many of these silences with all the members of his team, but most often with Murdock. As chatty as the pilot can be, he has a knack for knowing when words will just get in the way. Some part of Hannibal has always thought that Murdock understood him the best of all.

A snuffle from behind them breaks the moment. The two officers trade grins, Hannibal twisting in his seat to look back at his other two boys who're sprawled awkwardly across seats not meant to be slept in by adult men. In fact, instead of trying to fit his whole body across the second row captain's chairs, Face has opted to leave about half of himself on the floor in a sort of waterfall of lanky limbs. But it's B.A., further back, who's making the noise; only a soft sound, really, a sort of whuffling as he contorts himself into a new, slightly less uncomfortable position on the rearmost bench. Frankly, it's a peculiar sound to hear coming from a rock-hard bruiser like Bosco.

Their CO feels a protective warmth bloom in his chest. His men. Torqued up and huddled against the boring dark around them, they look like overgrown children. Funny; he'd never thought a minivan full of kids would have a place in his life. He smiles again and faces back around to address Murdock in a mutter so low it blends in with the sounds of the car. "Did I look that ridiculous when I was back there earlier?"

Murdock chuckles softly. "Aww, Colonel, you know we always thought you was adorable in your sleep." Hannibal snorts, hardly daring to imagine. They fall silent again.

It's timeless like this, just the four of them and the dark, which makes him think about what comes after. Four men with nothing to their names, no refuge, no resources…they need to stay ahead of the MPs, but a man's got to earn a living too. He's the plan man; they're relying on him to work out what to do after they finish with "lose ourselves thoroughly." He's already spent the last three days thinking about this and it's gotten him nowhere so far, but that's immaterial.

Falling into his own mind, it's easy to forget he's not the only one watching tonight. But if this is a moment and place of safety for the rest of the team, Murdock means to keep their colonel there with them. "Hey. Colonel."

That and a prod of his shoulder bring Hannibal back to himself. He looks over expectantly.

"Not tonight, O Captain my captain," Murdock coaxes him. "Stay close to us, okay?"

Hannibal studies the face tilted toward him: the big earnest brown eyes that flick between him and the road, the quirk of lips revealing fondness and concern, the suppressed worry in the seams of his face that the shadows pick out like lines of ink. He sees the same in his reflection in the dark glass, and in Templeton and Bosco, expressions stressed even in their sleep. None of them knows what happens next. "Murdock…"

"It's okay, Hannibal. We'll figure it out together. Just stay here with us." Like he said, Murdock understands, maybe better than Hannibal does. They're granted life in moments now, on the run, and this ephemeral orange-lit world of four men and a van is the most peace any of them will know for a very long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Oddly enough, I wrote this story first, and only realized what the title should be when I had finished it. That spurred me to go double-check the lyrics out of sheer curiosity, and lo and behold! We have a match, ladies and gentlemen! Well, not really, but close enough for government work, right? And as our team knows, you don't have to be real close for government work.


End file.
